I’m a fan of HBO’s “Succession.” A critical viewer but a fan nonetheless. Definitely an avid watcher.
Sometimes I watch in awe of its creators for having developed a show in which nonwhite characters are rarely seen and almost never heard — and yet their absence hasn’t drawn much ire at a time when onscreen representation is a major topic of discussion.
It’s as if everyone understands the show’s central characters aren’t the kind of people who’d pal around with people of color. After all, the fictional Roy family seems to be an amalgamation of the Murdochs (because of their riches and political heft) and the Trumps (because of their dysfunction).
The discrimination in “Succession” makes sense, I tell myself.
One of the most popular television shows is basically the TV equivalent of a Google calendar.
But what I’ve found most noteworthy about “Succession” since the beginning is how it takes seemingly mundane office bureaucracy and turns it into full-fledged drama. And I’ve always been intrigued by how this sets “Succession” apart from other American television shows.
As I frequently tell my friends, “Succession” is a show about paperwork. At the heart are various legal documents that signify stakes in various assets — television networks, cruise lines and lavish estates — and each character’s trepidation, anger or glee over what these documents mean for them.
With much of the show focused on media mogul Logan Roy (played by Brian Cox) and his rich kids, I often categorize each episode in one of three ways:
“Dad is signing the paperwork!”
“Dad is thinking about signing the paperwork!”
OR
“Dad won’t sign the paperwork!”
It’s a clerical drama. Essentially, a show that depicts a bunch of business meetings tethered together. I often joke that this is what makes “Succession” the most entertaining boring show on TV. I find it ironic that during the pandemic and post-pandemic era, when many people have discouraged grind culture and…
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